Jiggery-Pokery
by Tharl
Summary: What if Divination wasn't nonsense? A young Harry Potter is taken in by an American Soothsayer. The omens are foreboding, an ill wind is brewing, and someone forgot to feed the crows. AU
1. Chapter 1 - The Page of Swords

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I write this not for money but for simple pleasure. The Harry Potter world and all things found therein belong to JK Rowling.**

 **Author's Note: This story is inspired by my love of D &D where Divination is a very useful school of magic. This story is also inspired by the absolutely fantastic fic ****0800-Rent-A-Hero** **by Brainthief. If you haven't read it yet, give it a shot!**

 **Prophecies are acknowledged in the Harry Potter world as being true, so it stands to reason that the entire branch of divination must at one point have been an actual practice and not the sham it is shown as.**

 **Which brings us to our tale...**

Chapter One: The Page of Swords

A man of average stature hummed to himself as he shuffled a deck of cards. He was dressed rather formally in slacks, a white buttoned down shirt, and a soft brown suit jacket. His black hair was cut like he had just escaped the 1940's. Overall he appeared to have come unstuck in time. The man sat perched on a park bench, a quaint little thing built of wood slats and metal rails. On his lap lay a dark wood board inlayed with silver swirls and designs. The large oak trees rustled in the faint breeze. Dappled sunlight danced across the grass as the leaves swayed side to side. It was a beautiful spring day.

"Past," he murmured laying one face down. The card was larger than the average playing card, it's back faded and worn. "Present," another card, "short-term future, obstacle, likely result." Five cards lay neatly on the board. The man placed the rest of the deck down with care. He smoothed the edges till the deck sat neatly in a spot surrounded by illustrations of twisted knots unravelling, fraying, and twining back together.

He let out a breath and flipped the first card. Eight red wands stabbed out of the sky pointing to a road winding through the mountains. "Well, that certainly fits," said the man.

"Excuse me, sir," a young voice piped up.

"What's this? Where are you at kid?" asked the fellow. He looked left, right, and craned his head backwards but could not find the source of the voice. "Are you invisible, kiddo?"

A giggle answered him. "No, I'm above you," the voice said. A child with messy black hair and piercing green eyes sat in the branches of one of the trees, idly swinging his legs back and forth. The kid was dwarfed by his clothes, huge swathes of cloth held down by a rope cord around his waist. _Sensible to wear for playing in, I suppose,_ the man thought.

"My name is Otto," said the man, "what can I do for you?"

"I'm Harry," said the boy, "what are you doing?"

Otto stroked the card with red wands with a single finger. "Trying to find my way," he said.

The boy tilted his head and then gasped. "Are you a gypsy," asked the boy.

"Something like that I suppose," said Otto with a grin. "I am Soothsayer. It means I tell the truth even when I do not know what the truth is."

"But, if you don't know what's true, how do you know what to say," asked Harry.

"Exactly," said Otto as he nodded.

Harry frowned. His forehead furrowed itself into a mass of wrinkles. "You are a strange, strange, man," said Harry.

"Thank you, tiny kid," said Otto.

"What does that card mean," asked Harry. He picked at the frayed hem of his shirt with fidgeting fingers.

"It can mean many things. Like this, though, it means that I have been traveling recently. Which is good," said Otto.

Harry paused. Finally he asked, "Why is that good?"

"Because I have! It would be bad if the card made no sense. This way I know the other cards are more likely to be true," said Otto. A raven croaked mournfully in the distance. Otto peered in the direction of the sound. After a minute had passed he murmured, "sorrow."

"So if it had said you stayed home, you would know it was lying to you," asked Harry.

"Cards can't lie, not really. You can misinterpret them. You can ask the wrong question or read the wrong answer. That's not the cards' fault, though. But yes, if it had said I was wealthy or had plenty of rest I would know I had let my mind wander away from me when laying out the spread. Each card is a block that the others build on. The more sturdy the foundation, the more clearly you can interpret the rest," said Otto.

Harry leaned forward, one hand firmly gripping a branch above him. "What do the rest say," he asked. Excitement shone in his eyes.

Otto smiled and winked at him. "Let's see what the present holds," he said. He flipped over the next card. A youth in a tunic with pointed boots holding a sword on his shoulder smiled mischievously up at them. "Aha," said Otto, "there is you!"

Harry gasped. "What!" he exclaimed. In a flurry of limbs and leaves he quickly scampered down the tree and raced over to the board. Harry looked at the card and sighed. "That looks nothing like me," he said. He sat glumly on the bench next to Otto.

"That there is the Page of Swords. A black haired youngster who is quick and eager to learn. All the swords deal with strife, he has probably had a troubled past full of sorrow. He has had to fight battles while too young. Fortunately he has his sword, by being smart, being swift, or by simple resilience he has survived." said Otto in a serious voice.

"You're making that up!" said Harry.

Otto let out a huff. "I assure you I am not. I did not graduate Dreamweavers for nothing you know. Made up, indeed. Hmph," he said.

"I'm sorry. It just seems so unreal. Like magic," said Harry.

Otto looked at Harry curiously. His gaze rested on the tousled black hair, the cheekbones, the green eyes hidden behind thick black frames. After a long moment he reached out a hand and flipped the next card. A man with a bindlestiff was merrily walking off a cliff. He wore absurdly brightly coloured clothing and a wide empty smile. He was drawn with one foot hovering over the lip of the cliff.

"Who would be so stupid they would walk off a cliff?" asked Harry. He was torn between giggling madly and pure disbelief.

"The Fool," said Otto, "an interesting card for the immediate future. Take a leap of faith. Don't think, just do. Embark on a new adventure, it may be long and wearying but it will turn out all right in the end." Otto drummed his fingers on the board.

"That doesn't sound so bad," said Harry.

"No, it doesn't," agreed Otto.

"So that's past," said Harry pointing at the wands, "and that's now, and that's future... what are the other two?"

Otto tapped the card off to the left, "the main obstacle, hidden or known. They can be enemies or just things at work against you. Sometimes even parts of yourself holding you back."

"So stuff like bad relatives or people thinking you're a liar?" asked Harry.

Otto nodded. His eyes trailed over Harry's clothes, the glasses held together by tape, the worn shoes. "Certainly, those would all count. I often pull cards relating to procrastination myself," he said with a laugh. "My obstacle for this spread is..." he flipped over the card. A bearded man sat on a marble throne clad in rich red robes. He was crowned with a gaudy affair three crowns high and held a staff with three short horizontal bars crossing it. His left hand was lifted in a benediction. Before him kneeled two men with shaved tonsures like the monks of old but garbed in ostentatious robes. The entire setting screamed power.

Otto's face blanched. He cleared his throat. "The Hierophant. My obstacle is a man in a very high position of power, a ruler of a faith or an extremely influential teacher. One who teaches forgiveness. Wise, capable, and absolutely obsessed with morality. Huh. That's a first for me," said Otto.

"You said cards can mean different things. Could you be reading it wrong?" asked Harry. He scooted closer to get a better look.

"It can... it could mean my own views of right and wrong are holding me back. Or that I have forgiven or will forgive someone I should not have. But I think it is far more likely to be an individual. It's a sense you develop the more you practice with Tarot. Like a musician knowing what note to play to make the song flow smoothly," said Otto.

"What do the two kneeling guys mean?" asked Harry.

"They are initiates. The Hierophant is anointing them. He is approving them to take up their appointed roles in his institution," said Otto absently. Harry pursed his lips in thought.

"So... they want to join his club but can't without throne guy's say so," said Harry slowly.

"Exactly. I've always thought this card was a not so subtle critique against the Church. The Hierophant is supposed to be a religious authority speaking for God but he himself is shown to have all the power. They are supposed to be a religious order, but everyone is wearing very fancy clothes decked with gold. It always inspires caution in me against authority figures... but that could just be my youthful rebellion speaking," said Otto.

"Aren't you like thirty years old," asked Harry quizzically.

Otto huffed. "I am twenty-seven I will have you know," said Otto. "What about you munchkin, how old are you?"

"I am seven! I turn eight this year," said Harry. He smiled so wide the skin around his eyes crinkled.

"My goodness. I guess I am ancient. Why by the time you turn thirty I will already be dust in the wind," said Otto. He lifted a hand to his chest and sighed. "Oh woe is me, to be cut down in the prime of my life, to be -"

"Oh stop!" Harry laughed.

Otto grinned. "This last card," he said pointing at the only one still laying face down, "is the likely outcome. Since I was vague in my original question this will just be the most likely result if I follow the path before me." Otto hovered his hand above the card. "Are you ready," he asked.

"Yeah!" said Harry.

"Here we go," said Otto. He deftly turned it over. Harry gasped. A smirking red devil with twisting horns leered up at them. A man and a woman stood off to either side at his feet, chained to him.

"Is that..." Harry trailed off.

"The Devil," said Otto, "yes, it is. Reversed at that, see how it is upside down compared to all the others."

"Is that good?" asked Harry dubiously.

"It means the likely outcome is broken chains, escape from tyranny, the beginning of freedom. It could also means I will have horrible luck in marriage if I settle down right now," said Otto.

"That's ridiculous!" exclaimed Harry.

Otto sighed, "them's the breaks, kid. I didn't make the rules, I just play by them." He chuckled and shook his head. "Just something my teacher used to tell me," he said. He tapped the Fool, the Hierophant, and the Devil. "Three, three Major Arcana in the same number of cards. Something important is going to happen. Something inevitable," said Otto.

"What's a Major Arcana?" asked Harry.

"Tarot cards are like regular playing cards. Well, the other way around really. Standard playing cards evolved from the tarot deck. Anyways, both have four suits. Spades, Diamonds, Clubs, and Hearts for poker cards and Swords, Pentacles, Wands, and Cups for Tarot cards," said Otto. Harry nodded. "These suits are called the Minor Arcana. Like the eight of Wands there or the Page of Swords," he said. Harry nodded again. "With the Minor Arcana, fate is in your hands. It can be changed. If you see a ten of Swords symbolizing ruin then you can take steps to avoid that fate. In many cases you can circumvent it entirely," said Otto.

"I'm with you so far," said Harry.

Otto ran a hand through his hair. "The Major Arcana are different. There are twenty-two Major Arcana in a Tarot deck. They tell more of a story. The Fool's journey in point of fact," he said and gestured towards the man who should surely be about to plummet to his doom. "Major Arcana represent fixed points. They cannot be changed. The best you can do is prepare for them. The more Major Arcana in a spread the less leeway you have for changing things. That doesn't take away your freewill, it just means the events will occur. How you deal with them is up to you," he sighed. "The closer together they are in the spread, the more important the event. It is also likely significant that these three fell in order, the Fool who is 0, the beginning, followed by the Hierophant, Mr. 5, and then the Devil, number 15. Whatever is about to happen is inevitable, it's big, and it seems to involve you," said Otto.

 **To be continued on Wednesday!**

 **Liked it, hated it, thought it tasted like dulce de leche? Feel free to leave a review letting me know!**


	2. Chapter 2 - The Fool

**Chapter Two: The Fool**

"Me?" asked Harry. He pointed to his chest, eyes wide with shock.

Otto shrugged. "You're my present," he said tapping the Page of Swords.

"You are insane," Harry breathed out, "completely and utterly crazy. Cracked. Cuckoo. Nutty as a fruitcake. I am seven. I'm a kid!"

"If you are quite finished," said Otto. He picked up each card carefully and restacked the deck. The faint susurrus of shuffling filled the air.

"No. No, I am not. Oh my god, you are one of those perverts that Aunt Petunia is always going on about," said Harry. He sprung away from the bench as if scalded. His eyes were wide open, an expression of pure horror on his face.

The bridge of cards collapsed in a messy heap. "How on Earth did you come to that conclusion?" asked Otto in a bewildered tone of voice. He frowned at the deck and smoothed them back into a workable brick.

"You lure children in with your nonsense, your jiggery-pokery!" exclaimed Harry. "It's all fake, isn't it? There's no such thing as magic. I thought that maybe you were different, but you're just like all the rest!" The boy bolted. Harry ran as fast as his legs could carry him. He tripped on an upturned root, scrambled for footing, and took off again before he could even register the stinging from his scraped hands and knee.

Otto sat there on the bench in stunned silence, the deck held loosely in his hand. He blinked. A choked strangled noise crawled out of his throat. "Ahem. Okay then," Otto said, "that just happened. Today is a day of firsts." He blinked again and looked around. There was no-one else in the park, just the tall oak trees and the empty swingset creaking in the breeze. "What do you think," Otto looked at the deck of Tarot cards with a cocked eyebrow, "is it nothing but hocus pocus?" In what could have been a trick of the eye, light briefly shimmered across the back of the top card.

Otto flipped it over and sighed. "Yeah, that's what I thought you'd say," he said. On the front in stark detail a thick sturdy tower was shattered by a bolt of lightning. Humanoid figures either fell or leapt from the top of it. Bricks and debris rained down around them. Fire gouted out the narrow arrow slits along the sides. "The Tower, number 16," he murmured, "sudden, jarring, inevitable change." He exhaled through his nose. "Right, I suppose I'll see it soon enough," he said. There was no response.

Otto slid the Tower card back into the deck, placed the deck in a finely carved wooden box, and packed away his board. Strangely, the lap-board fit perfectly into the leather satchel at his feet that surely must have been too small to hold it. The satchel was battered and scuffed but clearly well-loved, the leather oiled to a robust lustre. He slipped the box in as well, shouldered the bag and stood up.

Ravens called in the distance, in the same direction that he'd heard the one earlier. The same direction the boy had taken. "I'm coming, I'm coming," he said. His shoes crunched rhythmically on the gravel path as he drew nearer the entrance. In the distance, steadily growing louder, he could make out the piercing wew-wew-wew of British emergency response vehicles.

Otto turned and walked towards all the commotion. Down the street a little ways, where Privet Drive joined Cypress Lane, a dense crowd of bystanders stood gawking. The kid was off to the side, his eyes huge in his face, a hand clasped over his mouth. Otto ran a hand through his hair and sidled up next to him.

Harry stood frozen, starring at the scene before them. Shards of metal and shattered glass were strewn across the intersection. The horrible stink of burnt rubber and spilled chemicals lingered heavy in the air. Steam hissed out of the engine of a delivery truck, the crumpled hood doing nothing to block its release into the atmosphere. A twisted mass of metal that once was a sedan lay a dozen feet away. The driver's side was completely gone. Emergency response personnel crawled all over it, cutting and prying away to get at the people still trapped inside.

Policemen had already set out flares to divert traffic while an officer kept the crowd at bay. Two ambulances were parked near the curb. By one of the ambulance's wheels was a still body, a sheet draped over the large form.

Otto looked up. Perched in the cypress trees lining the same-named street were nine ravens. The shaggy neck feathers flexed outward with each hacking croak. Otto closed his eyes and sighed.

"You knew them," said Otto after a moment. It was not a question. Harry whipped his head around to stare at Otto. He opened his mouth but nothing came out.

"Oh kiddo. Easy, easy. Take a deep breath. Let it out. There you go. I swear, I mean you no harm," said Otto. Harry took a shuddering breath and then another. He winced at a screech of metal being wrest from it's fastenings.

"That's my uncle's car," Harry said. He took another deep breath. "My aunt, my uncle. They went to watch Dudley's football game. He's the goalie. A summer football club for years 2-4. It must have let out while I was at the park."

"Look away kid, this is not something children should see," said Otto.

The crowd chattered away amongst themselves. Hushed voices raced over top of one another.

"Is that's the Dursley's car?" an elderly woman gasped.

"Oh my, that must be Vernon Dursley. He's the only man of that stature on the street," said another.

"Did anyone make it?" a thin man wondered.

A teenager asked stretching up on to his tiptoes. "Are they alive?" he asked.

A stiff-backed woman sniffed, "they already took the truck driver away. He could barely walk straight. Completely sloshed, you mark my words."

"Oh I hope that shy boy made it and that Diddley boy too," said a younger woman with blonde hair.

"I never thought I'd see the day," claimed a woman in braids, shaking her head, "here, on Privet Drive. What is the world coming to?"

"We've got another live one!" an EMT called. A rapid dash of activity saw a heavyset young boy strapped to a gurney and loaded into one of the ambulances. The ambulance peeled out, siren blaring. Meanwhile, a tall, thin woman was gently laid down beside the man, a second sheet placed over her.

"Oh, Petunia," sighed the woman in braids, "oh, Petunia."

"Why do you keep looking at the crows?" asked Harry. He turned his back on the scene and faced Otto completely. Tears leaked out of the corners of his eyes.

"There's an old poem. In some places it is about magpies, in others crows or ravens. The meaning though is always the same.

 _"One for sorrow,_

 _Two for mirth,_

 _Three, a wedding,_

 _Four, a birth,_

 _Five for silver,_

 _Six for gold,_

 _Seven a secret_

 _never told,_

 _Eight for Heaven,_

 _Nine for Hell,_

 _Ten, forsaken_

 _the Devil himself._

"There's a bit of truth in most of the old sayings. Likely a bit of truth in all of them, it has just been forgotten," said Otto.

"Ah," said Harry. He paused. "That's Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. They are dead, aren't they?" he asked.

"Yes. I'm afraid so," said Otto.

"My parents died in a car crash. Am I cursed?" asked Harry.

It was Otto's turn to pause. He looked at Harry and said, " _non tutti i mali vengono per nuocere._ Not all bad things come to do us harm. Sometimes bad things just happen. The living have to keep on living while the dead rest. Take it one day at a time, hell, one minute at a time if you need to, until the sun is bright again."

Harry nodded. "They'll send me to Aunt Marge's, won't they?" he asked.

"If she's your next of kin, I imagine so," said Otto.

"She hates me. She'll drop me at an orphanage if I'm lucky," Harry said. He muttered something about bulldogs and a river. Harry looked up desperately at Otto.

"I'm a strange American you've never met before. You had the right response to run away screaming. You should always run away if someone makes you suspicious," said Otto narrowing his eyes.

"Soooo..." Harry drew out.

"Didn't your aunt ever tell you not to talk to strangers?" asked Otto in exasperation.

Harry glanced over at the too still form by the ambulance and shuddered. "No," he said flatly. Suddenly his expression brightened. "What about the Fool?" he asked.

Otto pursed his lips. He tapped his fingers along the top of his satchel. The strap weighed heavy on his shoulder. Otto rolled his shoulder and reset it. He pushed out a long exhalation. "This," he said, "is a spectacularly bad idea."

"Yes," cheered Harry quietly. A few members of the gossiping crowd looked over in their direction with frowns. Otto curled his right hand into a loose fist, with his thumb resting between his index finger and middle finger, and flicked it at the staring people. They quickly lost interest and went back to discussing the crash. "What the...," Harry trailed off.

Otto leaned down and whispered, "Magic is as real as you and I. But this is not the place to talk about it. Is there anything you need from your house?" Harry shook his head firmly. Otto slowly nodded. He straightened up and at a more normal volume continued, "come on. Let's go get some fish and chips. I hear it's a British specialty."

Harry cast one sad backwards glance before hurrying away with Otto.

 **Author's Note:**

 **To be continued on Sunday!**

 **Thank you to everyone who left reviews! They do an author good.**

 **P.s. An interesting fact that did not have a chance to come up, in flower symbolism petunias signify anger and resentment. They can also mean 'hope springs eternal.'**


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